


The Dewey Decimal System Will Always Save You

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, Hotels, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>Person of Interest: Librarian AU, Harold Finch is the designer of a very complex, state of the art library software, and they use it to track down people who are overdue using people’s library numbers.</p><p>Along the way they solve minor crimes and people’s personal problems that made them overdue.</p><p>No one dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dewey Decimal System Will Always Save You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/gifts).



People didn't usually believe that John Reese was a librarian when he showed up at their doorstep in search of the books they had overdue. They‘d look him up and down, at the sharp black suit and carefully neutral face and take a step back in self-preservation.

At this point John would take out his employee card and show the Numbers (which were named so because to the Machine, a state of the art library software designed by his boss) that he was in fact not a dangerous vigilante. It was easier to get access to the Number’s apartments, houses and various hideouts when Harold Finch, who was the Head Librarian and his boss, accompanied him. The Numbers would take one look at Harold’s waistcoat, his glasses and immaculate shoes and open the door to let them both inside. It also helped that Harold had a glare as cold as an iceberg in winter when Numbers claimed that they had no idea where the books were located.

Most of the books could be found behind the sofa, under the bed or still on the nightstand. Sometimes they were used as building blocks for children or as supports for tables with a short leg. There were times when they had to solve problems in order to get the books back.

“Listen,” John had once said to a distinguished looking elderly woman, “I understand that you feel overwhelmed looking after your granddaughter, but the library needs to have some books on child behavior and upbringing on the shelves for other people.”

The woman had nodded and insisted that she would accompany John back to the now fully functioning library, which had just opened again after being closed for years. John wasn’t sure how he ended up having some sort of baby carrier strapped on his chest which held Leila securely. Her grandmother carried the books as they walked towards the library. 

“You don’t look like someone who studied library science or literature at University,” the woman said, “how did you get hired for this job?”

John decided that telling her about his former circumstances or the fact that Harold had convinced him to that the job was worthy of his attention and would be perfect for a man with such a varied skill set by handcuffing him to a bed wouldn’t be the best decision he’d ever make. His earpiece was in, as it always was. He knew Harold could hear every word.

“Someone told me I needed a purpose,” John said quietly. “The application process was nothing I’ve ever seen before, but it is a good life.”

“A good man, then the one who gave you that job,” she answered, as if she’d already made up her mind. John nodded and she took his arm while they climbed up the stairs to the library.  
As soon as she saw Harold she deposited Leila in his arms, announcing to the whole library that she was going to find some spy-thrillers and possibly some romance novels involving hackers or doctors. 

“Stay with Uncle Harold, Leila,” John told the little girl, “I’m sure he’ll read something nice for you before nap time.”

Harold stared at John, already reaching for a newly returned copy of _Where’s My Cow? ___by Terry Pratchett and placing it on the front desk. John smiled at Harold, who looked puzzled until he saw that a bag containing all the things Leila needed had been placed in front of the front desk. Harold limped into one of the back rooms to find a newly washed teddy bear that had lived in the library before he’d bought it while John took care of scanning the newly returned books. The fact that the customers were much more polite that evening when they saw Leila in her crib made out of books and padded with blankets was just a coincidence, of course.

The library itself was relatively small in comparison to those John had visited abroad, but it was well lit and had a truly astounding amount of nonfiction that involved military history, computer science and medical science as well as a good selection of classic literature and romance and detective novels. Oak tables and chairs were stationed on another floor for students and those who wished to research in silence. John would make fragrant coffee in the backroom and leave a large coffee thermos on a small table along with some milk and sugar so that the clients would stay for longer periods of time. On quiet days, John would put on rubber gloves and help Harold clean the shelves, which collected dust like Harold collected fancy suits. There is certain softness to the job when they stay in the library, constantly handing books over to strangers and having them returned. 

"If you Number is up,” Harold would tell John on countless early mornings in the library when the sun hadn’t even reached the library windows, “we will find you.” 

Harold would place a photograph on the glass board along with an address, and they’d make their way outside the library and walk side by side towards their destination. There were days, especially early in their accountancy where John would always be sent on a mission by himself but these days Harold would sometimes join him with a pleased gleam in his eyes. He didn’t like rummaging through people’s stuff as a general principle, he’d told John, but sometimes you needed to manually search for those copies of _Pride and Prejudice _____by Jane Austen because there were fifteen English Lit majors waiting for them to be returned so that they could write their essays.__

It was a peaceful life, coming into the library every morning with breakfast and green tea for Harold, who would greet him with a fond smile and a pleased: “Good morning, Mister Reese.” 

And if Reese had strange dreams about chasing criminals, saving lives and diffusing bombs he could chalk all that up to past life experiences and too much time discussing thrillers and murder mystery novels with the clients. Working with Harold had given him a purpose in life, and a fixed point in his existence while helping people find shelter and entertainment and knowledge. The library was a safe haven for all those who entered, filled with the scent of ink and paper and expensive tea and coffee. They were making a difference, even if they weren’t outright saving lives every day. The fact that they would sometimes go see movies on their days off and that his pay was very good were just perks. 

The years passed and the library software was updated. John had given Harold a dog named Bear, who was a rescue dog and would listen attentively to children read to him as well as being a constant companion to Harold himself. The fact that Bear accompanied them to fight crime sometimes didn’t disrupt this job and he had his own employee card and vest. His presence aided both Harold and John tremendously in finding the books when John was tasked to go out and find those who would not be returned any other way. Bear was such a distraction that most of the Numbers took a shine to him and would just straight up tell John and Harold the location of the overdue books. 

There were some regular customers now, like Detectives Carter and Fusco, who would take advantage of the free coffee and the quiet while reading the papers and making snide comments about some of the crime novels. 

They’d even hired a woman named Sameen Shaw part-time, who would terrify the Numbers when she showed up looking for overdue books and doted on Bear. She always returned with the books she was searching for and usually some sort of snack. Her shifts were irregular, but she was a valued employee. 

There were some cases when Numbers had overdue crime novels and biographies of famous co artists and stage magicians and thieves because they were trying to learn how to get away with minor crimes because of desperate circumstances at home. These cases could normally be solved with Harold somehow securing them a job or putting money in a bank account. However, when John was the one they encountered, he sometimes pointed the Numbers who were already accomplished small time criminals towards people that were more deserving of those minor crimes. Sometimes books had been stolen and John had to break a few kneecaps to get them back, since bothering actual police officers about such small matters just sounded silly to both Harold and John. 

And sometimes there were cases like these, when John and Harold had to leave town to get back a rare first edition which had been autographed and was worth more than the entire library building. The book had proven hard to find, but they‘d managed. 

After some frantic searching inside their spacious hotel room, Harold found John sleeping in the bathtub. John was laying perfectly still, the bruises and cuts from the fight earlier that evening still evident on his hands. There was a surprising amount of cleaning involved in maintaining a library, which included scrubbing the books themselves, but these weren’t book-inflected wounds.  
“John,” Harold said, nudging his friend’s shoulder gently. 

Reese shifted slightly in his sleep, his head moving to the left to rest more fully on the bright white porcelain. His legs were at an awkward angle which would leave him aching in the morning if he’d be left to lie there. 

“John?” Harold asked, letting his arm rest on John’s shoulder. 

John’s eyes snapped open, wide and fearful and alert l as he looked at his surroundings before focusing on Harold and realizing where they were and why. He sat up, allowing Harold to assist him in doing so by placing a steadying hand on his back. 

“Training must have kicked in,” John said, smiling at Harold as if he was trying to joke around. “Must have been really out of it and come in here to try to get some rest.” 

“It’s all right,” Harold said as John stood up in the bathtub while grabbing the side of the tub for support as his entire body shook from exhaustion. “It’s dark already, and I was detained at the other library for much longer than I thought I would. We are still in Washington, so it wasn’t our library.” 

It was better to make sure that John understood his surroundings. Harold had watched him jerk awake on the worn sofa in the staff room so often that it had become second nature to him to make sure John wasn’t feeling disorientated. They made their way into the bedroom and John sat down on the bed. John’s shoulders were slumped, but his eyes were trained on the door out of sheer habit. Harold sat down on the other side of the bed and began taking off his shoes and unbuttoning his waistcoat. The hotel staff hadn’t said a word when the two men had arrived earlier this morning, looking like they’d been dragged through hell. 

John had already checked the perimeter and made sure the windows and door were secure before going to sleep as he didn’t stand up at all, but closed his eyes instead.  
If he’d been anyone else, Harold would have assumed that his breathing was even, but for John he was practically hyperventilating. 

“We’re safe,” Harold told John as John made no move to take off any of his clothing or move at all. Harold placed his hand on John’s shoulder, trying to offer as much support and comfort as he possibly could. 

Harold knew that systems broke down or didn’t function because there was a flaw in the code. Sometimes people simply took the electricity off whole neighborhoods. He’d built the Machine because he’d seen firsthand just how much library software had become outdated or slow, or both. How easily the software malfunctioned or simply was too limited. So he’d began his project by looking at the search function… 

“It’s all right now,” Harold continued, careful to keep his voice soft. It was dark outside, and Bear was having a sleep-over at Shaw’s place. “I am right here with you.” 

“I can sleep on the floor,” John offered, his eyes already searching the room for an extra blanket to use as padding. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. And I’ve slept on far harder surfaces than this before…” 

Harold stared. 

“ The bed has plenty of space for both of us even if you stretch out. I don’t mind if you steal the covers,” Harold said, patting the bed. He stood up and headed to the bathroom after fishing his pajamas out of the suitcase. While he was brushing his teeth after taking and applying his pain medication for the night he could hear shuffling in the other room and when he stepped out of the bathroom he saw that John was already under the covers and had turned off most of the lights. 

Harold limped towards the bed, switching off the remainder of the lights as he went and sat down on his side of the bed. He lay down, his movements careful as he made himself comfortable. It would be at least fifteen to twenty minutes until the muscle relaxant kicked in, although the heat cream on his shoulders and lower back was already beginning to have an effect. 

“One day, someone is going to ask us why you hired an ex-spy to work at a library, Harold,” John said quietly. “Cleaning a gun blindfolded and hand-to-hand combat doesn’t really translate into shelving books. What are you going to tell them?” 

Harold glanced to the side, aware of the fact that Reese’s hand was on top of the duvet. He took his hand, squeezing it slightly like he’d done before almost a year ago when they’d decided that they weren’t fooling anyone, not even themselves. 

"I needed someone who could deal with the more difficult customers,” Harold said,” and to help me with the Numbers. Running a library on my own wasn’t a very sensible option. I needed a partner that I could trust.” 

That just sounds like the introduction of some sort of a television show where we save lives and help the helpless,” Reese replied, and Harold could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Well,” Harold said, ”I like to think that we have a positive influence on people’s lives, and it is a part of our job to help the ones who come to us for help in the library. Not to mention our work with the Numbers.” 

“You could just tell them that you hired me for my good looks and good interior decorating skills,” John said, his thumb brushing Harold’s knuckles. “And for cleaning the top shelves, of course.” 

“Very true,” Harold said. “Good night, John.” 

“See you in the morning, Harold,” John said. 

In the morning, they'd check out of the hotel and head back home. But for now, they were content to rest, aware that they had made the world a better place for a few more minutes at least. 

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this fic!


End file.
